HOW THE MISHAP OCCURRED

Evening Post, Volume XCIII, Issue 49, 26 February 1917, Page 3

HOW THE MISHAP OCCURRED

BAFFLED BY THE FOG

GOOD WORK BY'THE TERAWHITI.

The story of the Mararoa's accident, as related by passengers, shows that the experience from their point of view was protracted and dull, and practically devoid of the speedy action that one usually associates with a shipwreck. The Mararoa left Lyttelton. at the usual time on Friday evening, when the weather was calm and clear. She ran into a heavy fog about three hours later, and made the whole of the rest of the passage in the cloud. She struck at about 8.50 a.m. Two hours later the Monowai was standing by; and in the afternoon she took off the passengers, who were eventually landed in Wellington at 7 p.m. GROPING IN THE FOG. The trip through the fog was made under from easy to slow steam, and the siren was blown at frequent intervals, with special attention to the fact that about 2 a-.m. the Mararoa passed the Maori. Daylight brought no reduction in the density of the fog, and the steamer went ahead dead slow. The sea was beautifully smooth, and there was not a breath of wind ; even the motion of the steamer was not sufficient to raise a i breeze on board. Practically all the passengers were therefore able to take breakfast, and only the ultra-sensitive and the sluggish remained in their cabins. After breakfast most of the passengers were on. deck, and .were discussing the probable hour of arrival, when the comment was made by some of them that the fog seemed to have become denser ahead; and they also remarked that it seemed to be thicker in patches. Very soon afterwards the ring of the engineroom telegraph was heard, and a fraction of a second later there began a rapid series of bumps, and the steamer stopped. Then, as their eyes became accustomed to the conditions, the people saw rocks ahead, and more rocks on both bows. The engines were put astern, then stopped, then astern again; but many repetitions showed that this process was vain. It was just possible to see through the fog that the ship was head on to a rocky coastline, and that. on the starboard side were a number of ugly pinnacle rocks, which, had the Mararoa struck them, would have made her situation very much more serious. On the other side was a flat ledge of rock, so close to the shore that it was plain that, if necessary, a landing could have been made in that direction with a minimum of trouble. In fact, if it had been desired to beach the steamer, the position in which she lay would have seemed well chosen. There she was. The vessel was hard and fast, her own engines could not move her; and the tide was falling fast, so that those on board quickly reconciled themselves to a long wait for relief. LOCALITY OF THE ACCIDENT. Nobody knew where the steamer was. The captain and officers frankly confessed that they were lost, and the scraps of coastline visible were not sufficient to, identify. But by and by there appeared for a moment as the fog lifted the hazy figure of a man standing out on the rocks, and he was promptly hailed for information. "Orongorongo" | was his reply, and promptly this was interpreted as "Biddiford's station." There was at least the satisfaction that the scene was not very far from Wellington, whether by sea or by overland track, should it be necessary to land. And as the Mararoa lay firmly upon a perfectly even keel, most of the passengers fell to the promenading with which they had to beguile the greater part of the day while waiting for something to happen. They spent hours in wondering what was going to be done, and. when. The officers went about their duties—of which the details were naturally a mystery to the rest—with a stolid calm and coolness which provoked the remark that "if they remained cool much longer they would freeze." Tha passengers maintained a most blase a»ti ■ tsdo throughout, and the absence of bustle and excitement was very manifest. Even at the first, when the ship was nhronded in dense fog and her posiiioti was quite unknown, there was not even the excitement of the crew being called to quarters. The passengers mostly es pected that someone in authority wouM tell them off to their boats ; but. 'this was evidently not thought necessary. KEDGE ANCHOR TO WORK. The first sign of operations on board was the preparation of a kedge anchor, which was taken astern in a boat and dropped. This work aroused lively- in- • tarest because it was obvious that the

kedge had been stowed away for a long time. It was a mass of rust, and a deal of hammering and chipping had to be done before the shackle-pins could be removed for the attachment of a hawser. The humourist of the party declared that Captain Cook had lost that kedge; but it was not quite as bad as that. Tho preparation and placing of the kedge to prevent the ship swinging broadside on to the shore occupied several of the crew for about an hour, and when it was over the promenade began again, with the passengers still wondering if anything was being done to get them to Wellington. The whistle blew frequently, but called up no reply. And gradually the fog lifted, and showed up the rocky coast, and the massive hills that at the time of the stranding had'given the mist its peculiar patchy appearance. Then a boat was lowered and manned by stewards ; and it pulled away to Pencarrow to get into communication with the. Port authorities.

Still nothing was done to enlighten the passengers of what was lo be done for them. They had no instructions, and moved about according to their own sweet wills. Some brought their luggage on deck; others bewailed t-Re lack of foresight that had allowed them, to consign their chattels to the hold —a mysterious cavern which they pictured vividly as full of deep and swirling watarrs, on which their own possessions floated and soaked. Actually the Mararoa made scarcely any water, in spite of her long sojourn on the reef.

About 11 o'clock there came a cheering sound—the Monowai's whistle, blown in reply to the Mararoa.'e frequent calls, hooted from some hidden point. By-and-bye, the watchers—they could not bo called anxious -watchers—saw the Monowai loom up tc the northward, and soon she was fairiy close up. There was a loud exchange of courtesies between the steamers per whistle, and th© respeotive commanders were no doubt in intimate converse by wireless; but the passengers, however glad they were to see the Monowai, saw nothing doing to encourage them in the hope of an early landing. The decks boi-e manycoils of rope, but the boats remained on the chocks, the ra.fte remained covered— all showing how satisfied the captain and officers were of the absolute safety of the ship and the passengers, and the improbability of any change in the conditions. Naturally everyone expected to be transferred to' the Monowai, and sent without delay to Wellington, and more luggage was brought up on deck. The next move was that one of the Monowai's boats was lowered, and an officer came on board the Mararoa, bringing a coil of rope. Then the passengers for the first time heard what their movements were likely to be. The Monowai's officer was publicly told that the pasisengers were to be transferred to his ship, THE NATONE TO THE RESCUE. About noon the Union Company's small tug Natone came into view, and expectation of an early departure rose high. But the luncheon bell intervened, and wfoat w-as in the circumstances a very good meal was served. After lunch, however, things began to move much more interestingly. The Natone towed five of the Monowai's boats across to the Mararpa. A rough ladder wa-s placed at a coal port on the Mararoa's side, and a staging thrown out; and the slow process of disembarking the passengers began. Women and children were, of course, taken first. There were many of them; some were very elderly, some very young, some had toddling children with them. They were launched out upon what to them must have been indeed a great adventure. Squeezing out through the port, trembling with excitement or trepidation, worrying about skirts that clung anywhere but round the wearers' legs, they went "over the side." An officer standing on the grating gripped ankles and guided hesitating feet upon the rungs of the ladder, while on the boat, below a hefty mariner stood with waiting arms. As each woman reached the last rung his steady arms gripped her waist, and before she knew much about it .she was in the heaving and pitching boat. The arrival of the first batch in the boat was greeted with cheers by the onlookers on the promenade deck; but, alas, they had not finished tiheir clambering trip. The scheme was not that they should stay in the boat alongside the steamer; they had to cross over it into another lying beyond it, and this was a jumpy business and a slow one. Two boats were loaded in this way, and then somebody was inspired to make a bosuns chair " —a looped rope in which each person could sit and be lowered overboard. This materially simplified the business of passing the ladies and the infirm into the boats, and the disembarkation was correspondingly speeded up. At last the five boats were loaded, and pulled away. When the first of them reached the Natone it was evident that some argument was in progress bef.ween the officers on the tug and those in the boats, and presently a hail came across the water asking if the passengers were to go on the Natone or stay in the boats. It was heard by an officer ot rile Army Medical Corps, who transmitted the message to the Mararoa's officers, and called back their instructions, that the people were to remain it. Wie boats. Then the Natone, with three boats in tow, steamed off after the Monowai. The latter had been about a jmile away, but one of her boats, containing two seamen, had drifted off, and she went after it, so that three or four miles of sea had to be traversed. And calm as the sea was, Wiere was sufficient swell to make many of the passengers feel "queer" in a small boat. The other two boats, one of which was filled with women, and the other by about equal numbers of both sexes, were each in charge of two Jailors; and these men had the heavy task of rowing their boats all the way to the Monowai. For tlhem no luxurious tow; they had a long and cruel pull; and those who looked on wondered, and went on wondering, why the Monowai did not steam down to them, or send the Natone back to tow them to the relief ship. SAFELY TRANSFERRED. These five boatloads were safely transferred to the Monowai, but the remainder of the passengers were still without nny knowledge of what was to be done to get them off, or whether they were fated to remain until at some indefinite hour they would steam into port on board the Mararoa. • However, a.bout 4.30 p.m. the Monowai came back to her original position, the Natone again brought the boats alongside, and the process of transhipping continued till practically all were taken off. Iv the meantime the Union Company's salvage tug Terawhifi had arrived, and when a salvage pa^#y came n board there was a sudden change into activity. There was no longer time to be cool to freezing point. In less time almost than it takes to write the story, the officer in charge had tackle on bocrd, stewards of high and low degree, petty officers and seamen, had joined in a well-conceived and excellently carried out plan to arrange the gear necessary to attach the Terawhiti's towlincs. When all was ready for the supreme effort, the Mararoa's engines were set going full speed astern, and lashed the waters of the quickly-rising tide into foam. At this moment the last transferences of passengers were being made, and j the boats had some lively moments in the artificial maelstrom. Suddenly a blast from the Natone's whistle and a cheer from those on the Mararoa announced that all was well. The Mararoa had come off her rocky cradle, and was i once.more floatine free. The sal vase had

been successfully carried out. So draI matic was this success that those in the boats bemoaned that they had not stayed behind, for they pictured the Mararoa triumphantly steaming into port ahead of them. But once more their speculations | proved wrong, and the fateful kedge interposed. The hawser to which it was attached fouled the propeller, and in a | few moments the Maroroa was again crippled. Consequently she remained all night near the scene of her accident, and was towed in early yesterday morning. One final mishap after a most satisfactory refloating had robbed the ship's officers of the satisfaction of coming into port under their own steam. NO SERIOUS DANGER, The passengers generally recognised that their danger throughout was very slight, but few if any of them wlio have spoken of their experiences failed to argue that a very small change in the weather conditions, or a slight rising of the sea, would have necessitated tho telling of a different tale. They of course speak without knowledge of the professional side of the case; for captains do not consult passengers or confide in them on these matters. Moreover, passengers after a few hours on board ship invariably become expert seamen, and even great navigators. But the unprofessional side of the criticism offered is that everybody was surprised at the nature of the measures taken for the transference of the passengers, and the long delay that occurred in sending them off to the Monowai and to 'Wellington. As it was, they were not landed till 7 o'clock in the evening, and they contend that there was no visible reason why they might not equally well have been brought into harbour very £oon after the lunch hour.